At My Mercy
by AngelTheSeventh
Summary: There are creatures out there, forces, who are more powerful than us. We, in our foolishness, refuse to believe that anything could be superior to our species. Don't make this mistake. For we, humans, in comparison to some of these entities, are weak. Puny. Insignificant. Do not underestimate them, or you will pay the price.


**Hey, guys!**

**Back with yet another story. This is just a oneshot, so at least I won't have to worry about actually updating it. The main reason I made another oneshot was because I wanted something other to write than WotR or CoC. I know I said this would come out Monday, but I'm five hours early. Big deal.**

**I know the summary for this sucks, but I had no better ideas for it. Don't judge. Just read.**

…

"It's your turn to feed the dragon."

Those seven words echoed loudly throughout the massive chamber, carrying with them an ominous meaning. As they reverberated back off the walls, they sent a deep chill down a certain man's spine. Horror made itself clear on his face, and he raised his head slowly to stare in shock at the one who had spoken. The others standing nearby to the fear-stricken man shot him looks of amusement, fear, and relief. Oh, he knew exactly what they were thinking.

"_Glad it's not me."_

"_Hah, look at the expression on his face!"_

"_Nice knowing you."_

"_Guess we won't be seeing him tomorrow."_

But this particular man couldn't care less about it, at the time. Thousands of soldiers in this chamber, and it was he—a mere private—that was chosen for this horrible task. But why? What did he do to deserve it?

Nothing. The answer was nothing.

"Private Varcarel." A booming voice once again assaulted the ears of the man, coming from a three-block rise towards the colossal underground chamber's front. This was where the commander of the legion stood, gaze sweeping the crowd of silent soldiers. "I believe you have been selected to feed the dragon, and if I were you, I'd get my ass to the platform." The commander of the North Legion stood tall and menacing, six foot six. An extra nine was added to his height, due to the rise. He was decked in gold armor, indicating his status—chestplate and helmet. Beneath it, he wore nothing but a leather kilt, coming down to his knees. Varcarel himself wore leather armor, a full suit of it. A stone sword was sheathed at his side, mark of a private.

"Go on. What, you scared? Coward." The voice of another man, one of the archers standing nearby, shook Varcarel out of his stupor. The archer shoved him forwards, and he collided into the backs of more men. Irritated grunts sounded, and Varcarel quickly regained composure. A few snickers were heard somewhere off to his left, so he shot a glare in that direction, trying to muster some courage. It didn't work; he was too scared to make his gaze intimidating. Actually, the effect was quite the opposite, so the sniggering only swelled.

"Varcarel, don't make me wait for you," the general warned, voice rising. "Make your way to the rise."

Quicker than before, Varcarel pushed through the ranks of men, breathing hard with terror and dread. He was desperately trying to keep a lid on his fear, but he was losing the battle. Sweat was already dripping down his forehead, but he knew he couldn't lose it in front of the entire legion. He knew he'd rather feed himself to the dragon than have that happen.

Okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration.

After a few minutes of pushing between armored men, he arrived at the stairs to the rise. Wasting no time, he climbed them as fast as he could. The stony slabs were wet and slick from all the underground water drips, and it was difficult to see in the dim glowstone light that did its best to illuminate the giant chamber. Evidently, its best was not good enough, because on the last step, Varcarel's left foot slid out backwards from under him. His body lurched forwards, and he sailed towards the ground. Instinctively, he thrust out his hands to break his fall. When they collided with the flat stone, and tiny but intense pricks of pain lanced through his trembling arms.

A wave of heat washed over the poor man, and he lay sprawled motionless, mortified. Oh, how he begged the great Notch for his death, then and there. He could feel the gazes of every man and woman in the chamber, their eyes burning into him. His heart sank through the rock that was pressed against his chest, and he waited for the jeering from the soldiers and harsh words from the commander.

They never came. Instead, for a few agonizing moments, the chamber was silent. Each moment of no sound stretched for years, weighing down on Varcarel's back.

The silence was soon broken by the commander's irritated words, needles to the private's ears.

"Get _up."_

Instantly, Varcarel shot to his feet, and scrambled to where the commander stood in the large rise's center. By a stroke of luck, he managed to keep his footing, preventing further embarrassment. Not that he could be any more embarrassed.

He stood before the taller man, too nervous to look in his fierce eyes. The commander regarded him for a few seconds, no doubt contemplating whether or not to spear the private right then and there for being an idiot. Surprisingly, he didn't; just said, "Look at me."

Slowly Varcarel raised his head, timidly meeting his gaze. The commander's eyes were glaring down at him, full of disappointment and annoyance. It was like a punch to the gut for Varcarel; he felt like he had failed the legion. No, not failed. Only embarrassed it.

"You know we all have to do this eventually. Suck it up," growled the commander. "You'd best get on with it." His hand came up into the air, and something small and silver left it and sailed towards the private. Quickly, Varcarel's arms moved to grab the small object from the air, catching it with two hands. Staring down at it, he realized it was a pair of keys. He glanced up at the commander, then at the door that lead out of the chamber, located behind the rise.

"Go on," the golden-clad man said, motioning for the private to get moving. Varcarel began to move to the other set of steps, but was stopped when a large, sinewy hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Just remember, it's smarter than you think," was all the commander said.

…

Grunting with effort, Varcarel tugged and yanked at the end of a thick lead, trying to get the animals on the other end to follow him. Three cows, brown, splashed with white, were all bound together with the lead by metal collars around their necks. Good and fat, perfect for the dragon's dinner. Most occasions, the dragon needed six or seven cows every meal, but beef was running low. Three would have to suffice.

Now, the private was leading the stubborn trio down a stone underground corridor, leading to the dragon's cage. 'Cage' wasn't the proper term for it; it was simply gargantuan. Even so, it wasn't big enough for the reptilian creature that resided within. Half of the cage's floor was just a large pit, Notch knows how deep.

"You stupid animals," Varcarel growled, summoning all his strength to yank the mooing creatures the few remaining meters to the set of iron double doors before them. These were the entrance to the dragon's room.

Varcarel could almost feel the dragon's presence from behind the doors. Even the cows quieted down, and their pulling ceased.

The private extended his trembling arm out in front of him, holding the keys. Quickly, he inserted them into one of the doors' lock, and turned. A small 'click' was heard, and Varcarel placed his palm against the iron surface, and pushed.

A creak echoed throughout the corridor, and through the giant room the four were about to enter. Shaking ever so slightly, Varcarel took a few uncertain steps into the cavern, eyes wide. The cows, too fearful to resist, followed close behind the man, scared but oblivious to their inevitable doom.

When the private beheld the room before him, he couldn't help but let a small gasp escape his lips.

The cavern was bigger than the North Legion chamber, which was extremely impressive. It was all made out of iron blocks instead of stone, which was a wise choice for the room of a dragon. The wall on Varcarel's left was made entirely out of iron bars, much thicker than the regular kind. The ceiling of the iron cavern was higher than the ceiling of the cage, so you could see the roof of it. The corners and where the ceiling and walls met were lined with luminous glowstone, similar to the chamber from which he had just been in. But, strangely enough, glowstone was absent near the cage. Varcarel wondered why.

He took another step forwards, still marveling at the chamber. His footsteps were unnaturally loud, the sound quickly reverberating throughout the room.

Both he and the cows froze to the spot. Although they were protected by reinforced steel, they were afraid to alert the dragon of their presence.

But it was too late. The dragon already knew.

While still, Varcarel could faintly feel a strange, 'vibrating' pressure on his chest and back, and he started to breathe harder and faster. He knew what the feeling was. It was the dragon's breath, slow and powerful. Inaudible, but he felt it. And then, its _heartbeat, _a pulse the man felt at the base of his skull. Even without seeing it, he knew the dragon was enormous. But of course, he had already picked up on that fact from the size of the cage.

He couldn't see into the enclosure; it was just a dark haze. Varcarel was glad of it; all he wanted to do was get rid of the cows and get the Nether out of that room.

Swiftly, he made his way over to the cage, the cows trotting behind. He kept three blocks away from the iron bars, the animals with him trying to do the same.

In the corner nearest to Varcarel was a small three block-by-three block platform, sitting against the wall. A machine about a block tall and wide was placed next to it, glowing faintly scarlet. An elevator system, operated by redstone.

Wasting no time, he and the cows swiftly boarded the platform. With his foot, the private reached over the edge and pushed down the lever on the machine. Instantly, the elevator lurched upwards, almost throwing Varcarel off. He jerked himself back towards the center of the platform, still holding tight to the room keys and the cows' lead. The animals remained still the entire ride, still unaware of what was to come.

The platform finally stopped moving when it reached the top of the cage. It was level with the ceiling of iron bars, hanging next to another redstone machine.

Reluctantly, Varcarel and the cows stepped off the platform, and onto a part of the cage surface that was constructed of iron blocks rather than bars. A narrow path of the same substance led to a small cubic structure in the middle of the cage's ceiling. Wanting to just get this task over with, the private set off along the path.

Both man and cow were wary of the dark existence lurking far beneath where they tread. Each step they took was small and silent as possible; every movement they made was cautious and tiny.

Said 'cubic structure' was actually another cage, this one many times smaller than the one beneath it. It was twelve feet-by-twelve feet, four blocks long, wide, and tall. It was a second elevator, contained within barred walls and an open roof. It was made on a steel pole that stood in the center of the dragon's enclosure.

It was extremely dark in this side of the room, because of the absence of glowstone. A single torch was placed on the crate's wall, next to the small, dimly glowing redstone machine, and that was the only thing telling the private and the cows where they were heading. Well, the cows really had no idea, they were just instinctively heading towards the light.

Finally reaching it, they stopped in front of the small cage. Its perimeter was surrounded in more iron blocks in place of bars, to enable a person or cow to safely walk around it without slipping through the ceiling.

Standing together before the cage, both species felt a sense of finality come over them. Varcarel faced the animals and said, sarcastically, "Well, it's been nice with you guys. I hope you'll treasure the past fifteen minutes as much as I do."

Pressing his finger to a small button on the side of the cage, the private watched as a small section of the bars swung aside. "Go on," he urged the cows, motioning for them to board the second elevator. Dumb as doorknobs, the spotted trio shuffled forwards, not as a result of Varcarel's command and his waving, but because they didn't really have anywhere else to go. There was limited space on the small strip of steel on which they stood.

Quickly, so they didn't have time to escape, Varcarel pressed the button again and the door slid shut. Now the cows started to get nervous. The big, awkward animals milled around inside the cage, unsure of what was going on. They let out fearful moos, sounds that echoed loudly.

Varcarel stopped breathing, frozen to the spot once again. What if the dragon heard? He guessed that it had; it seemed impossible for it to not have.

The pressure on his torso and the vibration in his skull seemed to get louder. No, stronger, because they made no sound. Taking in a quick breath, Varcarel risked a look into the gloom below him. It should've been solid black that he saw through the bars, but it wasn't. The darkness was distorted; the shadows were _moving._

It knew they were there. Of course; it could both smell and hear the cows.

Varcarel's gaze slid to the redstone machine, sitting to the right of the door. The lever was placed on its left side, the side closest to him.

He lunged for it, yanking it down and watching as the small crate began to slowly move downwards on its pole. The cows yelped, their eyes going wide in the dim light of the torch that was placed on the crate's wall. It illuminated the terrified faces of the soon-to-be prey, and Varcarel watched with a sick interest as they descended.

What happened next was unexplainable. Looking at the cows' faces, a certain feeling sparked within the private. A dark, corrupted emotion, one that made him stop the crate just as its open roof was level with the cage's ceiling. He did this by pulling the lever up halfway, then he held it in place with his hand. He knew he was withholding food from the dragon; he was doing it on purpose.

Varcarel gazed into the larger cage, looking for the rifted shadows that signified the dragon's presence. He could tell exactly where it was; just beneath the crate, next to the pole's base. It was waiting for its food. Its form was perfectly still. Just waiting. Varcarel stared down at it, unable to wrench his eyes away.

Two twin orbs suddenly appeared, far below the cage's ceiling. They glowed purple, unnaturally bright and luminous, like flames. Varcarel knew what they were. The beast's eyes, boring into him.

They inspired a certain terror within the man, and his pulse and breathing sped up tenfold. But another emotion made itself known as he continued to lock gazes with the dragon. It was a type of indignant anger; impossible to describe.

Why should he give food to the dragon? Why keep it alive? Oh, he knew _why_. But if he decided to keep its food away from it, what would the creature be able to about it?

Nothing. The answer was nothing.

"Hah." Varcarel let out a small laugh, of course sounding louder than it really was. "I don't have to feed you," he yelled down to the beast. It didn't react; it just kept staring at him with those unnerving bright eyes. "You're at my mercy," he shouted, wanting to anger the dragon. "Did you hear that? You're at my mercy! I don't have to get you food at all!"

Varcarel laughed again, watching the dragon. "Tell you what," he told it, grinning. "I'll give you the cows if you…hmm…" Wanting to experiment a bit, he said, "Blink three times, and I'll get you the food. Bet you're too stupid to do that, right? Yeah, you're just a dumb lizard." Part of his mind remembered what the commander had told him, but he wasn't worried about it. Yes, it might be smart for an animal, but that didn't make it intelligent.

He kept looking at the shape in the blackness, hoping for a reaction. The dragon itself was still as ice, but slowly, slowly, its eyelids closed. Then opened. Then closed. Then opened. A third time the process was repeated, but then the lavender pits remained open.

Varcarel smiled, surprised. "Impressive," he mused, half sarcastic. Nonetheless, he pulled down at the lever again. The cows wailed as the crate jerked into motion, but the private enjoyed hearing it. Lower and lower it descended, until, finally, it reached the bottom, resting there with a loud _clang _as stone collided with metal.

Unfortunately, the dragon was sitting—Varcarel assumed it was sitting—just out of reach of the torch's light, so it remained unseen. And, strangely, although its food sat right in front of it, a bunch of plump, juicy cows, it didn't move. Its eyes never left Varcarel's face.

"Aren't you going to eat them?" Varcarel yelled, still convinced the dragon was merely another animal, only 'smart' enough to breathe and eat. He was feeling uncomfortable now, as if the creature's eyes were actually piercing his skin.

That was when _it _happened.

Suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, the dragon shrieked.

Not _a _shriek, anyone would say it sounded like multiple voices, multiple pitches, all sounding at once. And it was _loud, _so loud that everyone within hundreds of miles could hear it clearly, so loud that Varcarel and the cows' eardrums immediately shattered. And it was so loud that the sound waves had force, strong enough to make the foolish private stumble backwards. He was clutching his ears, screaming a scream he could not hear, scarlet blood oozing between his fingers. He didn't notice how close he was to the edge, the hole where the crate once was.

Losing his balance, the man fell through the four-by-four hole, screams becoming higher, louder, more terrified.

But it didn't matter. For he couldn't hear them.

It is unknown whether the dragon had wings, or just an incredible ability to jump. For at that moment, it launched itself straight upwards, possessing awesome speed and agility. Its unseen mouth opened wide, preparing itself for what it was about to receive.

And, just before the dragon's massive jaws clamped shut over Varcarel's tiny body, one last thought ran through the private's mind. Just one, before he was lost down the creature's throat.

"_It's smarter than you think."_

…

"**Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup."**

**I have no idea who said that. Anyways, this is kind of a preview for **_**City of Caelum.**_** Kind of. ****I didn't state that before because you might not have read this if you knew. Because I know I would have rather read CoC before even looking at this one.**

**But, if this interested you, go ahead and read my other one. This might make a bit more sense if you did, but I don't think you need to.**

**Whether you liked or hated this, please review it. That would be seriously awesome of you. :D**


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